


just might be the one

by wokeupscully



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, gay realizations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 08:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokeupscully/pseuds/wokeupscully
Summary: Jon blinks, startled when Lovett says, casual as anything, "Of course you do, I've known you liked guys since that time you had a crush on Tommy, remember?"The sputtering is something he took speech therapy classes for but he can't help it as he says, "S-sorry, uh, my - my crush on -""I mean, we've all been there, for sure, but you had it pretty bad for him for a while there." Lovett keeps going as though Jon isn't choking on his iced coffee."My crush on Tom-" Jon still can't quite process this. "No, I don't remember that because it didn't happen."





	just might be the one

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to everyone who helped out with this, be it beta-ing or just moral support, y'all are the best

Jon picks up his latte from the Starbucks counter, squinting against the sunlight as he and Lovett walk back outside into the warm heat of the Los Angeles summer. It’s better at the table they sit down at - still hot in a way that Jon isn’t sure he’ll ever get entirely used to no matter how much he loves it - but there’s an umbrella that gives them shade so that the sun isn’t blinding and it’s fractionally cooler. 

“Alright,” Lovett starts, an expectant expression on his face, “yesterday you said that you had something important to tell me today. What is it?” 

Jon nearly groans and buries his face in his hands. It’s only sheer force of will that stops him from indulging in that impulse. He’d chosen that route because he’d heard Lovett tell that story so many times, had hoped that he’d understand the reference Jon was making - he was referencing Lovett, after all - and that Jon wouldn’t actually need to explain what he’d meant.

He’d hoped that Lovett would take it for what it meant and let it rest. 

Jon shrugs, fake casual, eyes lowered to read the label of his drink - skim milk, extra shot of espresso, less ice. Gathering his courage, he looks back up at Lovett and smiles, saying, “I was just taking a page out of your book. I, uh, I like guys. Sometimes, you know? And I wanted to tell you that.”

Jon blinks, startled when Lovett says, casual as anything, "Of course you do, I've known you liked guys since that time you had a crush on Tommy, remember?"   
  
The sputtering is something he took speech therapy classes for but he can't help it as he says, "S-sorry, uh, my - my crush on -"   
  
"I mean, we've all been there, for sure, but you had it pretty bad for him for a while there." Lovett keeps going as though Jon isn't choking on his iced coffee.    
  
"My crush on Tom-" Jon still can't quite process this. "No, I don't remember that because it didn't happen."    
  
Lovett's eyes are kind but it's obvious from the way that he's looking at Jon that he's said something that he considers to be very stupid. "Remember that time he mentioned liking The Traveling Wilburys and you spent the rest of the day listing to their stuff in your office so that you could 'casually' reference it later?"   
  
"That's - that's not," Jon objects, "Tommy likes good music, we have the same, like, taste. I just knew if he liked them, I probably would, too." He does remember that day though, writing a speech and listening to this new music, trying to figure out which songs he’d thought would be Tommy’s favorites, which songs meant something to him.

“Yeah, and that time that Tommy was sick and you practically moved into our apartment to take care of him?” 

Lovett’s voice makes it sound like there was more to it than that but there wasn’t. Definitely not. “You know how he was back then, Lovett. If someone didn’t make him take care of himself, he would have just worked himself into being even more sick.”    


Jon’s face feels warmer than it did before though, remembering how had pretty much camped out in Lovett and Tommy’s apartment to make sure that Tommy wasn’t overworking himself, wasn’t trying to do too much like always while he was sick. He’d just known that if Tommy were sick enough to call out, then he must have been really, really sick. He’d just wanted him to feel better.

"Uh huh," Lovett said, but Jon could tell there was more coming that had Lovett convinced he'd had a crush on Tommy even when he hadn't and sure enough -   
  
"Remember that time the two of you went to Cape Cod -"  
  
"We do that every summer!"  
  
"-and you spent the next two weeks talking about how unfair his abs are and the fact that he has freckles on his back?" Lovett presses on as though he hadn't been interrupted.   
  
Jon's rebuttal is weak even as he thinks it - that Tommy had been spending so much time at work, had been so pale, that the freckles had been a surprise - and he doesn't bother attempting to make it work in front of Lovett.   
  
Whatever Jon's face is doing, Lovett closes his lips around what he was going to say next and softens his expression. "It's okay, Favs. It really is."  
  
"You used to talk all about how impressive he was; I can't count the number of times grabbing a beer with you ended up in a conversation about Tommy's intelligence, or his dedication, or his security clearance."   
  
Jon swallows, vaguely remembering the way alcohol had loosened his chest and made it seem like - like all he wanted to talk about was Tommy. "Yeah," his voice sounds tight and Jon clears his throat, looking down at his hands as they fiddle with the straw of his coffee - _gross_ , he registers in the back of his mind, _I'll need to get a new one before I keep drinking this._   
  
"Jon," Lovett reaches out and stops the way he keeps bending the straw, trying to turn it from a circle to a square, "Tommy never cared about that, you know he's not the type. Our Tommy has been known to bed a fine fellow or two."   
  
"Tommy..." Jon swallows, has to start again, "Tommy knew?"   
  
It's Lovett's turn to look away, down at his shoes. "It wasn't - It wasn't very subtle, Favs. He noticed." Lovett's lips curl up into a hint of a smile.  
  
Jon breathes in and out and watches the condensation drip down his coffee cup. Lovett and Tommy had apparently talked about the fact that Jon had a crush on him. Because it had been obvious.   
  
"Oh." The paper with his name and order on it is now soaked through with water droplets and the straw is as close to a square as Jon is ever going to get it. He feels, bizarrely, like he's going to cry.   
  
Lovett seems to sense that fragility and stops talking, looking slightly guilty and awkward, as though it’s somehow his fault that Jon had had an apparently incredibly blatant crush on his best friend and also been totally oblivious to it.   
  
“We should probably head back,” Lovett ventures hesitantly. “I know, I know, we’re our own bosses and it doesn’t actually matter that the traditional lunch hour is over -“  
  
Jon takes the opening he’s sure was given to him on purpose, a rehash if familiar banter, “Only you believe that, Lo. Some of us actually make a point of being on time.”   
  
Lovett plows on as though Jon hadn’t interrupted him as always, but time has given him the ability to see the way that he looks relieved that Jon played along with the bit.   
  
Jon’s lost in thought as he makes his way back to the Crooked office, trying to sort through his feelings now and then, trying to figure out how and when he’d come to have a crush on Tommy and how and when that must have ended.  
  
He manages to pin down absolutely nothing by the time he and Lovett sit back at their desks and so he buries himself in work, headphones plugged in, blocking out everything that isn’t an analysis of the latest topic for The Wilderness. Looking up as he stretches momentarily, Jon catches the way that Lovett and Tommy are silently communicating, making a conversation with their faces.   
  
It reminds him, in a way that sits on his chest like a weight, that they used to talk about him. About his feelings for Tommy. Jon usually feels blessed to have friends who understand him so thoroughly, so deeply. Who are so enmeshed in his life that there’s no way to disentangle themselves even if they wanted to. He’s grateful to have friends who know him better than he knows himself.   
  
Today, not so much.   
  
It isn’t fair to them, he knows, but it chafes at him that they’d known about this before he had himself. That they’d talked about it and understood it to be true before the idea had even occurred to Jon. This feels like something that should have been his to discover, to find, to tell.   
  
With a sigh, he focuses again on his work, ignoring the way that he can feel Tommy’s gaze on him throughout the day. Jon itches with it sometimes, the sensation of Tommy watching him like a physical _thing_ on his body. He wonders, now, how it is that he can tell that it’s him looking at him and not Lovett or anyone else in the office, when it was that he learned to differentiate Tommy from anyone else, everyone else. Jon wonders how much of everything he knows and feels about Tommy has been touched by the fact that he once was crazy about him.

Most nights, there isn’t a set schedule at Crooked; they all go home when work is done for the day. Sometimes they’ll mill around even once they’re done, hanging out until they feel like going home. But the clock hits five and Jon pushes back from his desk, more than ready to go. All he wants is to be alone, to find a way to mentally reorganize himself until this makes sense to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tommy and Lovett exchanging another look and it only hurries the way he collects his things, speeds up his steps as he walks out the door. Being alone helps for a little while, gives him space to sort through it all without wondering what his face is giving away or wondering what Lovett and Tommy’s glances at each other mean, what they’re saying about him with no words whatsoever. 

But then being alone gives him time to worry about it. To worry about all the times he must have made a fool of himself in front of Tommy and not even known he was doing it, to worry about all the things he’d missed the meaning of in his interactions with Tommy. To worry, increasingly and urgently, that perhaps this crush never faded away.

Jon flops down on his couch with a sigh, losing time as he tries to parse between the moments and the feelings and the memories with Tommy that could be explained by this and what is just - just the way that Tommy is and the way that Tommy makes people feel. He finds, frustratingly, that the answer doesn’t seem to be obvious, no matter how much he worries about it. 

The sound of a key turning in the lock makes him groan and he buries his face in one of the pillows on his couch. He knows that it’s Tommy; he’s the only one who would go with the key first, no knocking, no ringing the bell. Even Lovett, who’s always coming and going and stealing leftovers from his fridge, makes a point of announcing that he’s here before coming in. It’s been - Jon tries to think back and fails to remember but - a long time since Tommy’s felt the need to do that. He lets himself into Jon’s house like he knows he belongs here, like he knows he’s always welcome. 

And he’s right.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” Tommy’s voice is dry above him and Jon lowers the pillow from his face, letting it fall to the floor as he sits up. With a nod of his head, he silently invites Tommy to sit down on the couch beside him. Their legs brush as Tommy does and it isn’t any different than the times it’s happened in the past and Tommy isn’t any closer than normal but Jon feels it so much more. Tommy’s knee knocking against his intentionally grabs his attention from the worry that was creeping back into him and Jon smiles over at him gratefully. 

Slowly, Jon leans back against the couch and sees Tommy mirroring his movement, relaxing back along with him. “You always knew?” His voice is quiet, slightly plaintive, as though asking Tommy to say that the answer is no, that he doesn’t know what’s being asked of him. 

“Yeah, I did,” is Tommy’s response instead. It’s short, and it isn’t  _ unkind _ , but it is blunt and Jon grimaces slightly at it. 

“You don’t, uh, you don’t want to expand on that? Get into the specifics of when you found out? And what happened then?” Jon looks over at Tommy to see him pursing his lips, a considering look on his face. It’s quiet for what feels like an eternity but is likely only a few seconds and Jon’s knee bounces up and down quickly as he waits for Tommy’s response. 

“I  _ do _ want to tell you all that. But not so that you can stall having the rest of this conversation.” It’s a careful response, each word weighed before he speaks it. Tommy’s eyes on him are soft, a small smile on his face. But it’s obvious that he means it, that he doesn’t want to let him avoid facing what needs to be said. 

“Can I stall having the rest of this conversation by putting on a baseball game and grabbing a beer?” It’s only partly a joke and Tommy ducks his head, unsuccessfully hiding the smile on his face. He looks so fond as he shakes his head, a hand covering his mouth as though Jon won’t be able to tell he’s smiling, even when his cheeks go slightly red and the lines around his eyes crinkle in a warm, familiar way. 

“I’m vetoing the baseball game, but I do suddenly have a desire for a Blue Moon from your fridge.” Tommy’s barely done speaking before Jon gets up and goes to his kitchen to grab those beers, taking a few deep breaths before heading back in. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. He reminds himself of this over and over as he walks back into his living room. 

Jon builds his confidence up as he sits down next to Tommy, doesn’t let himself lose it as he says, “I can’t figure out how to separate the way I feel for you now from the way I felt then.” 

He doesn’t really hear Tommy say, “That’s okay, Favs,” because now that he’s gotten here, he has a lot to say. 

“I don’t know if the way that I felt went away or if I just became used to it, just decided that this was normal, the way I feel about you.” Jon is not sure if Tommy can tell how much that feels like too much to admit, like something that’s clawing its way out of his chest. He knows he’s talking faster than he usually does, abandoning the set pace he keeps on the pod, the more relaxed style he’s adopted since moving to LA. 

“Jon,” Tommy starts and he already feels wild and frustrated by how much more composed he seems with that one word than Jon has felt in hours. “You don’t need to know all that right now. You’ve had all of, what, half a day to try and sort it all. It’s not surprising that you’re still confused, that you’re still piecing it together. Knowing something is true and being able to deal with it are two very different things.” 

Jon’s breath catches as he nods, standing up to pace, unable to sit still. Every few seconds, he casts a glance at Tommy, who’s keeping his face carefully schooled in a neutral expression, not giving away what he’s thinking. “What if I want to know?” He challenges, trying to shake Tommy’s calm. 

At this, he instead gets a small, pleased smile that Tommy ducks his head down in an attempt to hide. “How do you propose to find out?” 

Tommy’s voice has a lilt to it that Jon hasn’t heard before, the smile on his face different than any of the ones he’s seen before. Part of Jon’s mind is saving this information, adding it to all the little details of things he knows about Tommy. The rest of him is at a crashing halt, realizing that Tommy is flirting with him, that he’s trying to get him to make whatever move he wants to make. Jon’s mind runs through so many things he might want, so many memories of things that they’ve already done, flashes of- of- 

He stops pacing and whirls around to face Tommy squarely and then rushes forward to kiss him.

It’s different and strange and comfortable and familiar all at once and above all, it’s Tommy. The kiss lasts an eternity and mere seconds later, they pull back, meeting each other’s eyes. Tommy looks awe-struck, breathless. His face is no longer the careful mask he’d put on before. “May I kiss you again?” Tommy asks, eyes dropping to Jon’s lips quickly.

Jon presses his lips to Tommy’s, considering it answer enough. Slotting his lips against Tommy’s, Jon steps even closer, pushing for more, testing the boundaries. Tommy allows him, shifting so that he’s more tightly pressed against him, matching the intensity of his kisses. But he doesn’t press beyond it; he readily takes what Jon gives him but takes only that, never the one to take the tempo up. It’s so quintessentially Tommy that Jon moans into his mouth. 

He freezes as he does so, ducking his face down into Tommy’s neck, feeling much less brave than a second before. “I don’t,” Jon’s voice cracks slightly at the sudden flood of anxiety that swept through him at reacting that way to Tommy, reacting that way  _ because _ it was Tommy. “I mean, I want… obviously I’m - it’s just that it isn’t, it doesn’t feel…” 

There’s a word, Jon’s sure, that expresses the complicated tangle in his chest right now. Something that describes how enormous it all feels, sorting out the difference of knowing your friend is attractive and being attracted to them, the difference between loving your friend and being in love with them, the difference between not knowing and knowing and, deeper down, not knowing some more. 

“Doesn’t feel  _ kosher _ ?” Tommy asks and a laugh claws it’s way up Jon’s chest unexpectedly, the tension of the moment slipping off of him in a way that he knows Tommy exactly intended. 

“Yeah, kosher.” There’s still laughter is his voice. “That works.” 

“Like I said before, Jon,” and Tommy wraps his arms around him, holding him close, “you can know something is true and still not know precisely how to handle it.” 

Tears prick at his eyes in a way he hadn’t expected and Jon whispers, “How are you perfect at this?” 

A soft exhale leaves Tommy before he says, “I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d say if we ever did get to this. And I’ve also had a long time to think about what I wanted to hear, what I needed to hear, when I was first figuring this out for myself, too.” There’s a second of comfortable silence before Tommy says, “I’m glad to hear I’m doing it right.” 

Finally, Jon lifts his head again, meeting Tommy’s eyes again. He doesn’t have anything to say, hopes that the way he’s feeling - overwhelmed and exhilarated and frightened and happy and in love - is something Tommy can see in him. 

From the smile that spreads over his face, Jon thinks that he can. Tommy’s thumb brushes over Jon’s bottom lip and it feels like the air has been punched from his lungs. He tips forward trying to chase the contact when Tommy pulls his hand away but Tommy’s voice, soft and sure, shushes him. “We’ve got time, Jon.” Tommy’s arms tighten around him. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

For now, it’s enough. It’s everything.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm tvietor08 on tumblr, come scream about the boys with me


End file.
